


Fred and George Save The Wizarding World (no one dies in this one)

by quillius



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Fix-It, Gen, Time Travel Fix-It
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-21
Updated: 2019-09-21
Packaged: 2020-11-02 11:01:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 602
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20723516
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quillius/pseuds/quillius
Summary: George goes back in time to save Fred. Also, Hogwarts starts a musical club.





	Fred and George Save The Wizarding World (no one dies in this one)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [hypercell57](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hypercell57/gifts).

> 1\. I am posting the first chapter of this to motivate myself to keep posting. It is unbeta-d and un-britpicked. I have most of the major plot events planned out, but I cannot promise fast updates.  
2\. The tone is probably not going to be very cracky, but the content... might be. Angst is probably going to sneak in but I intend this to be light-hearted and I am guaranteeing a happy ending.  
3\. I'm writing this for a friend so what she wants goes /shrug

There are experiences you expect to have scorched into your memory. You think the sensation will never fade. And yet, as George Weasley dragged open the door leading to the Black Family cellars, the rank smell assaulted his senses like a double-handed punch in the face. He had, unbelievably, forgotten the curdled, vomit-mixed-with-rotting-flesh-and-excrement smell that permeated the cellars, laced through with an extra dose of really black magic. He hadn’t braced himself, hadn’t thought to cast a spell to wipe out his sense of smell at least for the duration of the job.

He doubled over, trying desperately to not breathe and also to not vomit. Fred cast a bubblehead charm and he sucked in the cleaner air desperately, trying to purge the other stuff from his lungs. 

“Thanks,” George wheezed. 

“No problem,” Fred said airily, swishing his wand. George watched him out of the corner of his eye. 

Some memories do burn themselves into the back of your eyelids forever, so every time you close your eyes, there they are again. 

He shook his head slightly, shaking the thought off, trying to focus. It was July 31st. They’d been sequestered in the Order headquarters for, if he’d kept track of the time correctly, three weeks now. Everyone was going batty. Mum’s version of going batty was taking on the Herculean-- in the sense of, “impossible if you’re not a demi-god” -- task of cleaning up the Black household. Or rather, making everyone else take it on with her.

It took a brave soul to wade through piles of artefacts some of which were definitely cursed with really nasty little bits of magic. On the other hand, it took a braver soul to stand up to Mum when she was in a mood. Which she was, permanently, ever since The Prat had… pratted. 

The worst was when she cried, sometimes, and then as soon as she noticed anyone there she’d swiftly pretend she hadn’t been crying at all. It was horrid. So when she’d given them orders to head down into the cellars, they’d gone, Fred complaining the whole way, George half-heartedly keeping up with the banter.

It was a subtle difference, like all the other ones almost no one but the twins themselves ever seemed to pick up on, but Fred had a callous on his wand hand, something George had never acquired. He’d forgotten about that, the bump on the index finger. 

“Gotta find a way to bottle that stench, eh?” Fred said, bumping his shoulder against him. “Just imagine the pranking potential”.

“Right, yeah,” George said, not quite paying attention.

They headed slowly down the dark, slimy stairs. Already a few steps in it became noticeably colder, intensifying into a deep chill as they reached the landing. 

George cast Lumos, looking around. 

“Right,” he said, “I guess we should split up and look around.”

“Sure,” Fred agreed, easily. “I’ll take right?” He cast a quick Lumos himself.

George walked left, listening to the sound of Fred’s footsteps. He was trying to decide if there was any point in just blasting out a series of Scourgifies. Just to get the initial later of filth off, make the place less miserable-- ha, as if that was possible. Well, it was worth a shot. Couldn’t make things worse.

“Sco-” he got out, and then toppled over backwards, locked in a full body bind.

His first panicked thought was death eaters. But then a glowing light bobbed into view and he was staring up at Fred’s face.

“Who the hell are you and what the hell are you doing inside my brother,” Fred said.


End file.
